The Piano
by Fred-Weasley-Isn't-Dead
Summary: Jack Wilder wasn't someone who let people into his life. Never has, never will be. So why does he just open up to the most insensitive person out there: J. Daniel Atlas. And what prompts his sudden emotional binge? A piano and Mozart's 25 Concerto.


The sound of Mozart wasn't something generally heard among shabby apartments in downtown Nevada City, and when it was heard, it was coming from a music player or the computer. But the Mozart that filled the apartment the Four Horsemen were currently living in wasn't from a computer or from a phone or an iPod or something, it was someone actually playing his Twenty Fifth, which made J. Daniel Atlas curious. Which of the other three was classically trained? He put down his copy of Pride and Prejudiced and went to investigate, peering into the room that contained the only nice thing: A baby grand piano. No one knew where it came from or who bought it, it had just randomly showed up one day. When he peered into the room, he saw Jack Wilder, his back to the room as he played. It was rather compelling, the way his fingers danced across the keys to play one of the most loved compositions from a revered composer. However, he hit a sour note when Danny spoke,

"I didn't know you played." He was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed as he observed.

Jack turned around, glancing at Danny and rolling his eyes before he went back to playing, this time playing Beethoven, which song, Danny wasn't sure. "Well, I do, and I prefer to be alone when I play so if you wouldn't mind ..."

Danny rolled his eyes right back at that, sitting down on the couch in the room and staying quiet. "I would mind, actually. Since when does high school drop out, runaway Jack Wilder play the piano?" he asked, as if expecting an answer that was actually an answer.

"Since fuck you, that's when." Jack hit a low note that reverberated throughout the entire room and filled Danny with a sense of dread. Jack swore yes, but never in a situation that didn't call for it. He preferred to save his swears for when he was pissing someone off or hustling. Danny fell silent at that. If Jack was swearing, it wasn't just to piss him off. It was to actually make a point. He wasn't about to pressure him. He let Jack continue playing, watching his hands as they moved, watching the way his face was a blank mask as he played. It wasn't something he expected at all. Then again, Jack really didn't show emotion often.

"What happened to you, Jack?" he asked softly. A better question was, who sent a piano to the apartment where only one person knew how to play. Danny leaned forward, sighing softly and when Jack didn't respond, he stood. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry you had to go through it."

The music cut off abruptly and Jack closed the lid to the baby grand, turning around to face Danny's retreating back. "My dad used to beat me. Every day from the time I was four. Just because he could," he said quietly. He shrugged off his new leather jacket, bought with money he had stolen from unsuspecting drunks and then, he took off his tee shirt, which he never, ever did. His chest was riddled with scars, jagged lines that were probably from a bottle and round scars that looked like they were from a cigar.

The knot that had been growing in his stomach since Jack hit the low note tightened and Danny was feeling just the tiniest bit queasy. "Shit, Jack."

"I took piano as an escape from it but I let him hit me. If I didn't, he would hit my mom or he would hit my little siblings and they were still kids by the time I was in eighth grade." He turned around, showing Danny his back, which looked worse than his chest had. "Got a concussion when he pushed me down a flight of stairs and that's when the cops looked into my family. Everything checked out according to them and they left and it didn't stop him. He kept hitting me and I kept taking it until ... until I shot him. I shot him my junior year of high school and I killed him and I don't regret a damn thing." He shrugged. "From that moment on, my old life was dead because I was running. I became Jack Wilder and I had nothing to lose. I conned and hustled and when I almost managed a successful trick, I get called on it but still ... I got the guy's wallet." He managed a soft chuckle. "And in the wallet was my card: Death. And then I met you guys and shit, if my life didn't look up from there. Death though ... strangely suiting, yeah?"

Danny had not been expecting Jack's life story when Jack had hardly been willing to tell them how old he was, which was twenty-two, for the record. He sat down on the piano bench next to Jack, not knowing what to say. So of course, he has to say the first thing he could think of, even if it was unfortunately asinine. "Jesus, your life was shit." He winced inwardly at the way that sounded but Jack just chuckled bitterly.

"Tell me something I don't know," he muttered, running a hand through his hair and pulling his shirt back on, followed by his jacket.

"Was that why you were so eager to die?" Danny asked, as if everything was suddenly clicking, all the missing pieces were falling into place.

"The cops were on the look for me for years. My name becomes big and my face on billboards for our next show and they know who I am now. But then I die and -"

"And all of the cops who were trying to find you think you're dead. You're a free man. But you still get recognized," Danny pointed out.

"Which is shit, yeah," Jack said, "But it's worth it."

"So, whoever dropped off the piano?"

"My mom. It was sort of her way. She knew. I kept in touch with her and she knew. She had her ways of finding me, of knowing that I wasn't dead." He gave a wry smile. "I had to learn my magic tricks from somewhere."

Danny smiled sadly, hesitantly taking Jack's hand, if only because the two had been flirting on and off for weeks and Merritt had made so many comments about the blatant sexual tension that was radiating between them that Henley eventually dragged him off and let the two have the privacy. When Jack didn't pull his hand away, Danny gave a gentle squeeze, his sad smile growing when Jack squeezed back. However, when the front door opened, the two separated immediately, Jack moving to the couch and faking sleep.

"No, Merritt, you cannot go around hypnotizing people and conning their spouses," Henley was saying in that scolding tone of hers.

"I didn't actually do it. I just offered to do it, there is a difference."

Danny groaned, rolling his eyes. "Please take your lover's quarrel elsewhere," he said, leaning back against the piano. He took Henley's sigh though. "For the record, she's right."

Henley smirked, then gave a soft smile. "Did you two ...?" she gestured between Danny and Jack, smirking again, this time a bit suggestively.

"What? No, Jesus, Henley, I've only been home for three minutes and he's been asleep since I got back."

Merritt just gave Danny a dubious look and went over to prod Jack's side. "Hey, Jacky," he singsonged, trying to see if the younger man gave but Jack didn't move, not wanting to give himself away. Danny smirked, moving over to Henley's side and raising his eyebrows.

"Why do we keep him around?" he asked aloud, letting Henley wind an arm around his waist.

"I kind of like him," she said, grinning as Merritt turned to give them a look. Merritt just moved from the couch and rolled his eyes, going into his room and closing the door. "Pizza for dinner? You want to wake him?"

Danny just shook his head. "Nah. From the look of things, it's been pretty rough for him." Henley just nodded, grabbing her cell phone and going into the drawer in the kitchen full of pamphlets to find one from a pizza place.

Back in the living room, Jack opened his eyes to give Danny a look, raising his eyebrow. Danny just winked back, sitting back down on the piano bench and opening the lid to give it an appraising glance. Henley returned, her footsteps making Jack close his eyes again, faking sleep once more. Henley smiled at that. "You play?" she asked.

"Not even a little," Danny said. It wasn't a total lie. He couldn't even read sheet music, let alone know keys and notes and it was all just very confusing to him.

"So then, who does?"

As if it was a secret code, something that meant Danny would keep Jack's secret, that his name wasn't his first name, that he was a murderer, his whole former life, Danny simply said, "No clue."


End file.
